As the Slayer walked purposefully down the narrow walkway toward the car, Spike could feel the violent hatred pouring off of her – all directed at the innocent child, sleeping and unaware of the danger swiftly moving toward her – the girl who had become like a little sister to Spike during the past few months.
He did not understand it – it made no sense at all – but he knew what he was feeling, through the link that bound him to the furious Slayer. He did not know how it was possible – she was only a defenseless child, after all – but somehow, the powerful entity controlling Buffy at the moment saw Dawn as a threat.
The murderous rage in the Slayer’s cruel glittering green eyes left no doubt in his mind that in just a few moments, she was going to do something that would leave her and her entire family devastated, when she finally returned to herself enough to realize what she had done.
Spike knew that she was physically stronger than him at the moment, due to the pain, the beatings he had been enduring at her hand over the past few days. He knew that if he attempted to fight her, to defend Dawn, she could easily stop him – and the violent, controlling nature of the creature he was facing would see such an attempt as a challenge – a challenge that he would pay dearly for.
And he knew that regardless of all that – he had to stop her. No matter what the cost to himself, he simply could not let her hurt Dawn.
He was already outside the car, standing beside the driver’s door, and a couple of sideways steps placed him directly in front of the back door behind which Dawn was sleeping – just into the Slayer’s path, at the moment that she reached the car.
Her narrowed, menacing eyes, focused on the car, suddenly rose to meet his, her eyebrows raised in surprise – and amusement. Clearly, she had not expected him to oppose her, not after all that she had put him through in the past few hours.
She had no idea just how much Dawn meant to him.
Spike held her gaze bravely, not backing down or moving an inch – but he felt a chill of fear sweep over him when she smiled, menace and anger in her narrowed eyes.
“You don’t want to try to get in my way again – do you, Sweetheart?” she said softly, edging in nearer to him, trapping him between the car and her body. “That didn’t go so well for you last time, did it?”
*Yeah, well – I stopped you last time, didn’t I?* he thought, thinking of how he had kept her from hitting Joyce, even if it *was* only by distracting her attention onto himself and taking the punishment that had been meant for the Slayer’s mum – and if he had to do that again, to protect Dawn – he would.
It was beginning to appear that that might be the case.
A violent wave of fury swept over him from the Slayer, and he saw rage burning in her eyes, as he realized that she had heard his thought, which had not really been directed at her. He wondered if, wherever she was trapped deep down inside herself, Buffy could hear his thoughts as well.
He knew she had heard his *voice*, before.
“Buffy,” he spoke in a voice of quiet urgency, ignoring the threatening words and demeanor of the Slayer before him and focusing on the girl he knew was struggling to resurface, the girl who would not want to hurt him, and would never hurt her own baby sister. “Buffy, love – you have to fight this! Think of your *sister*, love! I know it’s hard, but you just can’t let this thing…”
His words were violently cut off by a vicious, breathtaking slap across his face, hard enough to knock his head back against the roof of the car behind him, as the Slayer moved in closer, one hand gripping his hair to hold him still, as her other hand edged closer to the mark of her claim.
“How dare you!” she hissed, her voice trembling with rage. “Do you actually think you can stop me? That *she* can stop me? You can’t! No one can! And once *she* is gone,” she waved her hand in a sharp, dismissive gesture toward the car to indicate Dawn, “I’ll be restored, and no one will *ever* be able to stop me again!”
He had no idea what she was talking about, had no idea how killing Dawn could possibly benefit the monster controlling Buffy – but he knew what it would do to *his* Buffy – and to Joyce, who had just gotten out of the car and was watching with confusion and fear, clearly unsure of how to react. She had missed the last words of her daughter, did not yet know of her intent to harm the helpless child in the car.
And with any luck, she never would have to.
*Buffy!* Spike thought urgently, reaching out mentally, emotionally, for her, hoping desperately that she could hear him over the roar of fury that surrounded her at the moment – hoping she was not too weak or too far buried to fight her way back in time. *Buffy, love, please! You can do this! You can’t let this happen to your sister!*
His heart lurched with fear as she suddenly yanked his head to the side, exposing his throat to her. He could feel the fury rolling off of her, surrounding him, infusing him with a terrible sense of dread at her power, until all he wanted was to yield to her, to give in, to do whatever it was that she wanted of him, *anything* to keep her from…
“She is *not* my sister!” she snarled in his ear coldly, and he flinched from the hatred in her voice, though her hand in his hair did not allow him much movement. “She is nothing! Just an illusion!”
As she spoke, she smiled at his fearful reaction to her tone, her touch, allowing her fingers to glide slowly up his shoulder toward the mark, but not touching it – yet. A sick feeling of terror came over him, his body tensed and shaking with fearful anticipation of the agony she was poised to inflict on him.
Even so, he knew that he had to try to get through to Buffy; no matter what she did to him, he just couldn’t let her hurt Dawn.
*Buffy – please – you have to fight – you can’t give in to this – you can’t let her…*
The Slayer suddenly yanked his head back sharply, deliberately cracking it hard against the roof of the car again, dazing him slightly with the impact. He felt his knees buckle under him, but was held up by her painful grip on his hair.
“Please!” she sneered in his ear, and the pure menace dripping from her voice made him cringe. “Do you really think she can beat me? Not this time, Baby! She can’t stop me! You can’t! No one can!”
His mind raced, fighting off panic as he struggled to think of a way to stop her. He had no idea if his attempts were actually getting through to Buffy or not. If they were, she had not managed to fight this thing back at all – not yet. He dared not attempt to physically fight her; he knew that he could not win at the moment, and fighting her always seemed to do nothing but *increase* the power of the thing inside her.
And the last thing Buffy needed if she was going to defeat this thing was for it to get any stronger than it already was.
She pressed her body in closer to him, a suggestive smile slowly coming over her face as her fingertips came within a fraction of an inch from the mark. He looked up at her, eyes wide with panic – to see a cruel, vindictive anger in her eyes – and he knew immediately what she was thinking. She could read his thoughts, know his emotions, and she knew that although he was not resisting her, he was still trying to think of a way to stop her.
And she was determined to punish him for it.
A moment later his thoughts were swallowed up in pain as she traced around the outer edge of the red, sensitive mark with her fingernail – and he bit back a cry of pain at the cruel sensations that she sent though him with the touch. He jerked back in a useless attempt to escape the pain, but she only pressed in closer, holding him immobile as she slowly worked at the mark with chilling patience, taking her time to make him suffer.
He thought that he would surely pass out from the pain, sweeping through him, consuming him like slow-burning sunlight. He was helpless to resist her, helpless to defend himself in any way, as the edges of his vision went black, and he struggled to maintain consciousness.
*Buffy – Buffy – Buffy…* He could do nothing but silently, desperately call her name in his mind, hoping she would somehow find the strength to stop this from happening.
But – if she was focused on him – then she couldn’t be hurting Dawn, could she? he thought with an ironic sense of hope. If he could only keep her focus…
A moment later, he cursed his own traitorous thoughts, as a cruel smirk came over her face, and she leaned in to whisper in his ear, “I’m gonna kill Dawn, Spike.” She drew back to gaze into his wide, fearful eyes, a bit distant by now with the agony she was causing him. “I’m gonna kill her – and then – then I’ll be free.”
Spike vaguely heard Joyce’s soft breathing behind him, across the car, and he felt a weak, cautious sense of hope. If Joyce could just get Dawn away…
Joyce apparently had the same idea, though she had not heard Buffy’s threats against her sister. Her eyes focused warily on the stranger who looked like her daughter, she moved toward the rear door, clearly intending to take Dawn out of the car that way while Buffy’s attention was diverted.
“Mom,” Buffy spoke a bit louder, raising her voice so her mother could hear her, though her triumphantly laughing eyes never left Spike’s. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’m faster, and stronger, and you’ll never get her away before I catch you. Besides – do you really think I want to hurt my own little sister?” She looked up at her mother then, a wounded look in her eyes.
Joyce studied her daughter’s expression intently, her heart pounding with fear. She could not imagine Buffy deliberately hurting Dawn – but she had tried to hurt *her* before – and Spike had made a point of telling her not to bring Dawn into the house until he had calmed Buffy down…was it possible that Buffy was a threat to her own sister?
“Joyce…” Spike gasped quickly. “Don’t lis…”
Again, his attempt was cut off by a powerful fist across his face, as Buffy released her grip on his hair just long enough to strike the vicious blow – and everything went black for a few moments, as he fought desperately not to pass out.
Ignoring his words, her eyes focused on him again, Buffy continued with a casual shrug, “Besides…if you try anything, I’m gonna twist his head clean off right now. I’m getting really *sick*…” she shook him painfully by the hair as she went on softly, “…of his stupid behavior, anyway.”
Spike could hear Joyce’s heart pounding, could sense her terror – and hoped that she would handle the situation wisely. She should try to get Dawn away – if he could only keep Buffy distracted long enough…
But Joyce knew that her older daughter’s words were true. There was no way she could get the groggy teenager away before her inhumanly strong and fast Slayer daughter could get to them – and in the process of trying, she could get Spike killed. She knew the best they could hope for was to be able to get through to Buffy, to help her to fight back.
Spike said he had done it before, helped her get back in control. Their best hope was that he could do it again.
The Slayer’s eyes narrowed on his, and her smile became softer, yet somehow infinitely more frightening as she went on in a whisper, outside of Joyce’s hearing again, “You can’t stop me, Sweetie. I’m *going* to kill her. And then – then I’ll show you what comes of defying me, you pathetic little fool!” Her voice was calm, quiet, and thus terribly unsettling, as she spoke dark, threatening words. “First – I’m gonna take out anyone who’s gotten in my way – anyone who’s tried to take you away from me…”
*Anyone who’s cared enough to try to help…* he translated in his mind with a feeling of panic and despair. *Anya…Joyce…God, Buffy, *no*!*
He desperately hoped that she could hear him – but that hope was fading fast.
The Slayer nodded, but that cruel smile of satisfaction did not leave her lips, and he knew that she had read his thoughts – but he still had no indication of whether or not *Buffy* had heard them. This creature tormenting him did not seem to be having much of a struggle at the moment.
*And then,* she went on, in his head now, as she pressed down viciously on the mark, drawing a soft, pleading moan of agony from the vampire’s lips. *I’m gonna take you someplace quiet – private – and we’re gonna talk about your attitude lately…* There was a menacing, mocking quality to her mental voice that sent a shudder down his spine.
*I’m going to remind you of just who you belong to…*
*Buffy…* he thought desperately, struggling to focus his thoughts through the pain and confusion that assailed his mind from the beating she had been dealing him. *Buffy…I belong to…Buffy…not you…you’re not…not her…*Buffy*!*
A fresh wave of rage assaulted him, a reaction to his quiet, weak defiance, and the pressure on his throat increased mercilessly. Once again, he felt his knees buckle, would have collapsed, had she not been holding him up. His hands grappled blindly at the car behind him, seeking purchase to keep him from falling.
*Shut up!* she snarled coldly – and this time, he had no choice but to obey.
Despair came over him then, finally, with the knowledge that he could not even attempt to reach Buffy anymore, forbidden to speak to her, even in his mind. Now, there was no way that he could reach her. Buffy had not managed to beat it back – not this time – and he was obviously no match for the increasingly powerful force within her.
Dawn and Joyce were at her mercy.
A cruel, victorious smirk on her face, Buffy released her grip on his hair, and his head fell back for a moment before he managed to wearily raise it up. He wondered for a moment why she had released her hold on him – before realizing that she was through playing around.
She maintained eye contact with her first victim, as she reached for the car door handle that would grant her access to her second -- *intended* victim. She frowned, looking down in surprise, to find that despite his weakness, despite the clear futility of the gesture, Spike had made one last ditch attempt to protect the girl in the car.
His hand covered the handle, trembling, weak, but still attempting not to let her in. His jaw was set with determination that his body was simply to broken to back up.
A slow smile came over Buffy’s face, though her eyes flashed with a fire of rage, as she slowly took his wrist in her hand, easily pulling it up away from the door. In a sudden, vicious motion, she smashed his hand back hard against the metal frame of the car, and he could not suppress the cry of pain that left his lips.
She looked at him a moment longer with a sneer of disgust, before taking him by the shoulders and hurling him carelessly away from the car. He fell to the ground several yards away, badly weakened but already trying to rise. Furious, Buffy followed him, kicking him several times, knocking him further away from the car.
The last time, he did not move – just lay there, his body wracked with pain and weary from her mental abuse, desperately wishing for Buffy to return, to fight this thing off before it was too late.
Because it was clear that he would not be able to.
Glaring down at him in disgust, yet satisfied that he would not be any further opposition to her ultimate goal, Buffy turned back toward the car, which was now a good thirty feet away from her. But before she could move back toward it, the back door had opened, and a sleepy-eyed, bewildered Dawn, who had only awakened in time to see the last of her sister’s violence toward her friend, stepped out and rushed toward her without thinking of the danger to herself.
“Buffy!” she cried out in alarm. “What are you *doing*?”
“Dawnie, no!” Joyce cried out, suddenly instinctively aware that the main danger of the situation was toward her daughter, rather than the beaten vampire on the ground. She came around the car toward her daughter, realizing with dismay that Buffy would still easily reach her before she could.
Buffy did not move for a moment, as a soft, disarming smile came over her face. Her voice was gentle, and chillingly – well, *normal* -- when she finally addressed her sister.
“Hey, Dawnie,” she said casually, as she slowly began to walk across the lawn toward her sister. “You’re up. Good. I wanted to talk to you.”
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